


Mistakes were made sometime between 2:30 and 3:45 AM  - Fall Out Boy

by He_speaks_lies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/He_speaks_lies/pseuds/He_speaks_lies
Summary: Follow Bo and her journey with Sam, Dean and others through the world of monsters, demons and GOD? knows what else. Put yourself in her shoes as she fights, bleeds and works with the boys to save the world from destruction. The world is always ending, and it's up to the new trio to postpone the inevitable once again. And again.





	1. Rude Awakening

There was something wrong with her bed.

Upon waking every morning, she never could really help but snuggle against her pillow and wrap herself tight into her blankets in an attempt to hold onto the last few sweet seconds of sleep. Her gray comforter and matching sheets always smelled of fresh linen and lavender, a smell that she kind of detested since it reminded her of her grandmother's overzealous spritzing of perfume, but annoying or not, the smell was familiar. The smell of morning. The smell of home.

There was something wrong with her bed.

When her eyes would finally pry themselves open after she gave up her fight with the coming consciousness, she would be met with the rays of sunlight that were steadily making their way through the blinds. The blankets tucked up by her nose would be lightly speckled with the slightly darker gray lint balls from over-washing, a habit she really hadn't kicked since living in a college dorm with a messy roommate.

This wasn't her bed.

The soft bed she normally woke upon, the fluffy pillow and sheets that smelled like her too-fragrant grandmother were not here. The bed found herself in wasn't even a bed. The rough, frayed carpet below her told her one thing. She was lying on the floor. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of her surroundings, though it wasn't quite the stench of piss, it definitely wasn't lavender. Rotten meat and cheap beer came to mind. Her body felt sore, her head was starting to pound and she tasted the residual copper left in her mouth along with most-likely sour morning breath.

"Oh... she woke up." Came a voice from across the room, drawing her eyes from the stained carpet to the rest of her surroundings. Cheap wallpaper, old-school boob tube complete with retractable rabbit-ears and spray-on texture-spattered off-white ceiling. The windows weren't bright, so it must have been nighttime. It looked like a regular motel room, if a party had broke out and destroyed the place. A party... with... blood... and bullets. 

"Where am I?" She groaned, coughing a bit as her throat tried to clear itself. The figure at the other end of the room let slip a dark chuckle that made her stomach twist uncomfortably. There was a sense of fear creeping into her now, the dazed dreary feeling wearing off and being replaced with a cold paralytic chill. She had been captured and... she wiggled her wrists a bit to realize that she had been tied as well. She stopped to recount everything she could before waking up in this destroyed room, but was coming up blank with any details about her arrival here. 

"You're here, with me." The voice said, hollow footfalls letting her know that the figure was walking toward her. He was getting closer. She sat herself up a little bit on an elbow, trying to drag herself away inch by inch. The growl that left the man's throat told her to stop, her movements obviously aggravating him.

"You are staying with me. They'll come soon." The voice wasn't very keen on making her aware of her situation, but it was clear that it wasn't her that he was fixated on. He was waiting. Waiting for 'they', apparently. The dim light from the overturned table lamp by the bed illuminated her captor, a rather large burly man with a shaved head. His shiny head was covered in a plethora of asymmetrical tattoos, each one a little more risque than the last, the ink reaching under his throat to cover his exposed neck as well. His fingers were the size and shape of over-stuffed sausages and each of his nails looked either very filthy, or painted with unkempt, chipping black polish.

"Ah... here they are..." The pleased sound coming from the large man's lips made her worry as he spoke. 

Outside, the sound of a muffled truck pulling up roared loud in the parking lot. The way it stopped didn't make it seem like the stop had been urgent, more like the driver was just getting ready to pack it in for the night. The tattooed man chuckled once more and grabbed a knife from the side of his belt, it was sharp and looked serrated... some sort of steak knife perhaps. 

"Now... Be quiet." He drug his tongue along the knife's blade, and it was only then that the captive woman noticed the fact that the blade was already red with blood. She blinked, looking down at herself. It explained the sore feeling she had woken with. There was a very deep gash in her side, the bleeding looked like it had slowed since being torn open. He raised his bloodied blade over his head, ready to plunge downward. Down into her chest. Red symbols surrounded her, written in her own drying blood. She could hear footsteps after the vehicle had cut the engine, and she couldn't help herself. This man was going to shove that knife into her chest whether or not she obeyed his earlier command. She would warn the 'they' that were coming. She licked her lips as she felt a surge of adrenaline run through her body, filling her lungs with sweet oxygen to prepare.

She let out a scream that gave horror-movie soundtracks a run for their money; a shrill, gut-wrenching sound that honestly hurt her own ears burst out of her throat and easily alerted anyone within earshot. The scream must have frightened even the large, tattooed man, because his eyes went wide and the hesitation of his blade was apparent. The horror quickly turned into anger and the man growled out as he thrust down his weapon, only to be stopped by the door slamming open and the intruder tackling him back onto the ground. Her scream was cut short, the sudden attack jostling her from the adrenaline boost and sending her back into remembering how fucked she was. Now that the scream had escaped her, the only thing her body was willing to do was begin hyperventilating. 

Two figures fought in the dark, but an even larger shadow emerged from the door now. Holding a gun in his hands, the mountain of a man stepped through the door frame and stepped into the room. She looked up at him from her spot, seeing his barely-lit eyes scan the area before resting on her, then leaving again. He was trying to decipher what was being done here, but the bleeding woman wanted nothing more than to be as far away from this room as humanly possible.

"HELP ME!" She yelled out to the man, who's exploring eyes returned to her and holstered his gun. He knelt down and scooped her up, rushing her outside only to shove her slack body into a car, gently but quickly placing her onto the leather seats before slamming the door shut and running back into the room. There were further sounds of fighting, shooting... glass crashing and walls crumbling... 

The woman felt unsafe, in a car or not, she didn't know who these 'they' were. She slowly wrenched her body until her bound hands were in front of her body instead of behind her by basically playing jump rope backwards with her arms. The rope was a pain for her teeth, but she gnawed at the ropes to pull them free from their knot. Once freed, she rubbed her raw and bloodied wrists and stripped herself from her ripped cardigan, tearing a somewhat clean strip around the bottom of it to make herself a bandage for her middle. It stung and made her want to puke from the agonizing pain alone, but she refused to further exhaust herself. Once she was sure that she wasn't bleeding out anymore, she searched the car. The leather was nice, and perhaps a bit too clean for her liking. There was a duffel bag in the back floorboards that she unzipped, her eyes wide when she was met with an array of machetes and... bottles of blood... little white rocks... drugs maybe? Who were 'they'?

She grabbed one of the larger survival machetes and opened the car door. The keys had not been left in the car and she didn't even know if hot-wiring was a thing anymore, she just had to make a run for it. Standing was a chore on its own, so she settled on walking away from the loud, dangerous madhouse that was the motel with a slight limp. Her legs and hips had not been damaged whatsoever, but every step pulled a little at the cut flesh in her side, making the limp not unavoidable, but necessary. The weapon she had lifted hung limply at her side as she walked into the road, looking for any sign of life. She had to find someone, had to get to a hospital or call the police.

No lights. Not a trace of headlights or a car as far as she could see. She couldn't even tell which direction to go, the closest town wasn't anywhere in sight and any signs that the place had were shut down or broken. This motel was in the middle of nowhere, and she might as well be running back into the arms of tattoo man. She chose the right, into the light breeze that was wafting through the air. At least the air felt good against her skin. 

"HEY!" The large man who had carried her into the car called out to her, both of the 'they' emerging from the motel and running after her.

"Get away from me!" Her voice wasn't nearly as strong as she had meant it to sound, and the rushing feeling from the adrenaline left her completely. She dropped to her knees immediately, white filling her vision as she lost hold of the machete.

"She's bleedin' bad. Get a kit, go!" A gruff voice called out. She felt a hand at her back and another hand touching her face to pry open her eyelids. When had she closed them? Her mouth moved as she tried to speak, any tiny struggle she put up was weaker than a toddler having a tantrum. 

"Please.." Was all she could say before the white light in her eyes faded into darkness, the world around her sounding like she was being submerged into water...


	2. Don't Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Bo have found a case in Wahoo, Nebraska shortly after the events of the arrival and the departure of the Seven Deadly Sins. Dean is still living it up as a dead man walking, Sam is still hell-bent on saving his brother regardless of the consequences, and Bo continues living and learning as a hunter in a world filled with demons.

"Bo!"

It had been two years since that fateful day. As it turns out, the large tattooed man had been a regular human being... who had led a poorly-funded cult following that was infatuated with the entirety of Hell. The first time the two men had tried to explain this to her, she had laughed in their faces out of sheer delirium. In their defense, they HAD tried to lie to her and tell her that he was some crazy guy, but upon remembering the weird bloodstained symbols and the strangeness of the entire encounter, she had stubbornly demanded the truth.

She often wondered how incredibly different her life would have been had she grudgingly accepted their first lie and gone on with her life. Would she have forgotten about the tattoo man? She was sure she would be reminded often, seeing as she had a pretty large scar on her side now. There wasn't really anything she could do about a jagged scar like that, but luckily in her new line of work, bathing suits weren't really in the wardrobe.

"Come on Bonnie!"

Bo cringed at the sound of her name and dragged herself out of her thoughts. She had always hated her name, her mom had loved old-fashioned names if her brother's or her pet's names were anything to go by. Her brother had been named Gerald and their fish always had names like Patty or Marguerite. Luckily the boys generally stuck to her preferred name, Bo... unless she wasn't paying attention, in which one of them would annoy her until she did.

"I'm coming!" Bo pulled on a bleach-stained forest green tank top and a pair of bluejeans as she hustled out of the steamy bathroom, hair free from her towel and dripping lukewarm water onto her exposed shoulders. She unlocked the motel room door and let it swing inward, allowing the boys entry. Dean sauntered through first, toting a box of glazed doughnuts and a newspaper, following quickly by Sam, who had brought a carrying container with three cups of strong coffee.

"You're not going to leave any water for the fishes, Bo. Not every shower needs to be a marathon." Dean grumbled, shoving a hand into the box and chowing down on one of the doughnuts inside.

"Isn't the point of a marathon to be the fastest?" Sam quipped.

"Y- no... Like... a tv marathon..." Dean whined, his witty remark being easily squashed under Sam's logic. Sam shrugged and dispensed with the coffee, taking a seat near the window and pulling out his laptop. Bo brushed a comb through her long brown hair, shaking it every now and again to both dry it and annoy Dean. He protectively shielded his doughnuts and newspaper from the droplets of water.

"No new omens?" Bo asked, tying her hair back into a loose braid and ruffling the front of her hair to let a few stray strands frame her face. She yawned, pawing at the box for a second before Dean relinquished his grip on it, allowing her to grab a doughnut. He went back to reading over the local newspaper, not finding anything of interest either than what had been reported on the local online news a week previously. 

"Just the same sort of reports, people getting freaked out by weird happenings. A report here of a rat infestation, but no actual rats were found at the house... flickering lights there, ransacked house there... It shows the main signs of a vengeful spirit or a poltergeist, but the issue is the fact that none of these things are happening in the SAME house, ghosts typically stick around where they died or where they have influence." Sam explained, Bo scratched the back of her neck as she pondered over the possible reason for the disturbances. The first thing to go over would probably have to be the similarities between the houses, which means they would have to go undercover and start talking to the witnesses. Bo hated talking to witnesses.

"So, are we going for FBI agents or regular officers?" Bo asked, knowing that the answer was the latter, but allowing Sam to explain more so she could finish her morning coffee before they had to book it.

"Officers, these occurrences definitely aren't big enough to warrant FBI attention. I'm pretty sure having the three of us will put up too many red flags for the locals. Bo, we could use a low-profile journalist to hang out at the local hang-out spots. People talk when they know other people aren't looking to listen." Sam droned on, leaving Bo to agree with her last gulp of hot black coffee. She made a face, wishing for just a little cream to soothe the burn how pulsing in her throat. She breathed out, letting her tongue hang out for a moment to cool down before digging into her duffel bag for something more... Journalist chic. She swapped her stained tank for a mint green one and covered that with a somewhat see-through black-gray cardigan. She slipped on a pair of leather-laced shoes that weren't particularly fashionable, but they looked a little worn and were sturdy in case she got into any trouble. With that, she popped on a pair of faux square-rimmed glasses to complete the look. 

"Bo, back with the sexy nerdy chick look. Second only to naughty nurse." Dean gave a hearty thumbs up as he shoved the last half of the last doughnut into his mouth, giving a fake wink and smile, doughnut poking out of his overstuffed mouth. Bo slapped his arm, rolling her eyes behind the thick frames.

"I swear, it'll be the last time I go undercover with a bunch of horny teenagers running amok. Next time, you play the slutty bait." She laughed, remembering one of their hunts for something in a college town. THAT had been a weird spring break. She gave herself a mental wash and began prepping, putting a few things into her 'nerd bag'; an over-the shoulder satchel with hidden pockets containing salt, a silver knife and various other hunting tools just in case she ran into something nasty when away from the heavy-hitters on her team. She had her own laptop, knowing if Sam was ever without his, he might hyperventilate from separation anxiety. 

"Pretty sure there was a coffee shop not too far from here. I'll walk there.' She was sure that driving around in the Impala would draw too much attention and so would the sight of two sheriffs walking around trying to get their job done without one. 'I'll be off. Cellphones on, boys." She said, wiggling her phone out at them to make sure they had their ringers on. Dean groaned and took out his, flicking it open and beeping the volume control so she could hear it, and Sam held his already open and turned up phone into the air, eyes still glued to the monitor. Bo beamed and shoved her phone into her nerd bag before closing the door, feeling no point to locking it behind her.

\-----

"So you write about weird local stuff?" Bo had found a sucker for the nerd suit and was currently talking him up about the strange happenings in town. He was an average guy, shaggy dark hair and equally dark eyes. The five O'clock shadow didn't look like he had forgotten to shave this morning, but looked more like a unkempt fashion statement. Although, maybe that could have been his secret to his seemingly signature look. That, and his snakebite piercings. He had been sitting across the way with his own band-sticker slapped laptop for a good twenty minutes seemingly ignoring it completely in loo of playing with his cellphone, before he made his way over to her. Seeing as we were the only people here in their early twenties, it wasn't that odd for him to join her. It was the purpose for her 'cute nerd' look after all. Had she shown up like a bimbo, or a police officer, or a school teacher... no one would approach. No one SHE would want information from anyhow.

She made up a short background that she was an aspiring journalist and writer, and that her fascination was the strange and unlikely. She told him a few stories about different places she had traveled to in which people had told her about seeing ghosts or shadows where there could have been none. They were all true stories of course, but she put on a bit of an air that she was a bit skeptical about the whole thing herself, but still interested in uncovering the truth.

"Yeah, basically. I like hearing about the town 'Creepy Haunted House' or the disappearing 'cat' stories. Even if they are only figments of people's imagination, you have to admit that people can see... or at least THINK they see something crazy." She said, letting her blue doe-eyes drift toward the window, making herself look as though she were lost in thought for the moment. The man only looked twice as intrigued after that, and leaned in, the slight look of worry on his face curling the piercings and making them appear crooked.

"Well, then you must have heard about the Malburn house."

\-----

"Apparently the Malburn's house is haunted." Bo burst into the motel room with a few bags of junk food, only to be met with silence. She paused, looking around for a moment before tossing the bags of food onto the wobbly tabletop and grabbing the cellphone out of her bag. She changed out of her mint green tank top and the cardigan and swapped it for a black tank top, not wanting the over wear one of the only truly stain-free shirts that she owned. She whipped it open and hit the speed dial, listening to ring after ring signify something that she hated oh so much. She dug around in the corner chair to find Dean's phone left forgotten between the cushions, ringing loudly at her. Bo couldn't stop the growling noise that caught in her throat at the sight of his forgotten phone and speed dialed Sam. Three rings... four...

"Bo! Could use your help over here! We're at the--" Sam's voice was a bit gruff over the phone, but a little more so than the normal amount for phone static. 

"The Malburn House??" She asked, her voice in a bit of a panic as she grabbed one of her already-packed duffel bags and burst back out the door. The hinges squeaked unhappily at their continued abuse, but she did notice as she rushed into the parking lot. She grabbed the first car she saw and jumped in, slamming open the middle and side compartments and the glovebox before the keys fell into her lap from the sun visor. She let out a bark of indignant laughter before starting the car and slamming her foot down on the pedal. 

The Malburn house was in the dead center of town, surrounded by commercial property and the church. The house looked so terribly ordinary that if she hadn't seen the Impala parked in front, she might have passed by it. She parked the car a few houses away and broke into a sprint toward the house, the sounds of thumps, crashes and broken glass could be heard from the front gate. She got to the door but upon grabbing and twisting the handle to no avail, she shouted as loud as she could near the window.

"SAM! DEAN! I can't get inside!" She confirmed this yet again by trying in earnest to kick the door down, only succeeding in tweaking her ankle a little with the pressure.

"BO!" Dean's voice carried through the wood of the door, then louder when it seemed like he was pressed against it. It didn't sound very much like he was doing it by himself. Something had a hold of his and was trying to smother him against a hard Oak door right now.

"Vengeful spirit! Get to the cemetery and burn the bones! Cindy Malburn!" He groaned, the sound of one of Dean's Iron pipes flinging across the room as Sam screamed something about salt and floating chairs. Bo wanted desperately to bash her way inside and help, but she knew the deal. If the bones weren't burned, the doors would not open. Ghosts were really annoying with their powers and rules at times.

_____

 

Dean was pressed hard against the wood of the door, listening to the barely audible sound of Bo's departing footsteps. The spirit had him in an unseen grip, the iron pipe he had been defending himself with was now somewhere near the fireplace, far from his reach. Dean called out to Sam, who was currently dodging a chair that had been chucked at him from the same room, mistakenly dragging his foot across the neat salt line he had poured not a few minutes earlier and spraying salt in every directly.

"Oh." Sam paused for a moment, staring down at his mess in a mix of disbelief and horror before deciding it would be a good idea to leave his no-longer-safe salt circle. He dive-tackled his brother out of the unseen grip of the spirit, Dean gasping in relief as fresh air was sucked into his lungs.

"Bo's doing the salt and burn for Miss Cranky Pants over there..." Dean wheezed, glaring at the figure down the hall that casually flickered in and out of his field of vision. The woman stared back at him, seemingly understanding his words and looking at the telephone on the counter. Dean caught her look and ran toward it, slamming his hand down onto the receiver.

"No you don't." He growled, but she approached anyway, zipping here and there in a rapid series of flickers until she slammed her palm hard against his chest. He was sent flying once again, yanking him away from the phone. She grabbed the receiver and held it to her ear, giving him a death glare as she disappeared and the receiver dropped to the hardwood floor. Both Sam and Dean cursed, running for the door and sending it flying open. Without the presence of the spirit in the house, the house lockdown was no longer in effect, making it easy for them to leave.

 

\-----

 

BBRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIng!

Bo nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her phone at a time like this. She had just made it to the cemetery when she had gotten a call, her first instinct was to ignore it, but she didn't want to take the chance that one of the boys were giving her a call with some sort of important information.

"Yeah??" Bo shouted into the cell, grabbing a shovel from the small shed near the fence to start her digging when she came across the gravestone marked... Cindy Malburn. The spot for her grave was very small, surrounded by the rest of her late family markers. Cemeteries didn't bury people this way, the markers were too close together. That could only mean one thing.

"You were cremated." Bo sighed in exasperation, then as no one had answered yet on the other line, her eyes widened as she realized that the person she had come here looking for, was on the other line.

The chuckle that echoed through the phone made her drop it as fast as her jaw did. The flickering spirit had made her way through the phone line onto the very grass Bo found herself on. Before she could say anything, Bo was hit with an incredible force, her body was flung into a nearby Tombstone, a cry leaving her lips as her head struck the polished granite. The figure flickered closer and closer as Bo watched through bleary eyes, the closer she got to the downed hunter, the more disheveled and crazed she looked. Bo dug into her bag for an iron bar or a bottle of salt, but the contents of her bag had been scattered and lost in the grass. She clawed desperately at the grass for a handful of salt, she found that it was no longer pure. Dirt and dust clouded the once bright white salt grains, but she flung them at the spirit anyway.

The spirit hissed a bit, but did not fade away like it would have if the salt had been pure. Bo held her hands up, exposing the iron rings she had on her fingers, if she could smack the thing around long enough... She didn't know. She couldn't burn the bones, the trip here had been purposeless. 

"What is keeping you here??" Bo cried out, hands still up to protect herself from the spirit. 

"Me..." The boy from before, piercings and all, was standing near the fence, walking slowly toward Bo and the spirit. He had his phone in his hand, the other hand reaching out to the spirit.

"You need to stop doing this, Mom... You need to stop this!" The boy said, the spirit turning to him immediately. Looking at them both, it was clear that they were related. Her horrible spirit disfigurement and evil aura had all but disappeared. The two seemed to have a silent conversation in simply meaningful glances before he started using sign language. The mother seemed relieved for the moment as she answered him back with her own gestures. They seemed to argue slightly in the middle, as their gestures were faster and seemingly more forceful, before they started slowing again. Bo didn't know sign language, but she knew the last thing that they told each other.

"I love you." Their hands stopped and the mother seemed to relax, closing her eyes and disappearing into nothingness. The boy started to cry, holding his phone close to his chest. 

"BO!" Sam rushed her, kneeling beside her to check her wounds. Bo pat his shoulder for a second to let him know that she was okay, but she also felt the need to throw up. Definitely a concussion. Dean caught up a few seconds later, panting. 

"Did we miss it?" Dean asked, sounding a little hoarse. Bo shakily stood, limping over to the boy who currently cradled his phone. She rested a hand on his shoulder and he quickly squeeze-hugged her with a force that had he not just had an extremely emotional experience, she might have punched him. He cried lightly into her shoulder, calming himself before letting her go with a small smile.

"She's at peace now... I think... I thought hunters could help but... all I had to do was talk to her... just, thanks. I got upset that you were trying to help the town... and I was just avoiding everything. If I would have just talked to her in the first place... It wouldn't have gotten this bad." He said, each word making him feel incredibly more heavy than the word previous.

"You didn't know. Lingering spirits isn't something that everyone knows how to fix. You're just someone living their life. At least now, everything is okay. Except the house. There's a few broken bits here and there." Bo smiled, trying to reassure the young man. He seemed to lighten at that as well, another sigh leaving his lips. Bo wobbled a bit, luckily Sam was close behind to catch her. She continued her soft smile to the boy, patting the top of his head as a bit of delirium ebbed.

"I'm going to get a move on and rest. And you, you have a life to live. Get home and clean up. You'll be fine." She said, resting her head against Sam's chest as the boy left to go home. Sam carried her back to the car and Dean collected a few of the things that had dropped out of her bag and carried it along.

"That was a pain in the ass." Bo mumbled, her head pounding now as the adrenaline wore away. Sam chuckled, jostling her in his arms a bit. He looked down at her while he walked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I don't think you can get a concussion in the ass." He joked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he poked fun at her. She fought the urge to lick his arm or slap at him in faux retaliation, but didn't think it would be a good idea in case he would freak out and drop her.

"I'm starving." Dean groaned from behind them, getting into the driver's seat while Sam lugged her into the back seat. He checked her hair for blood once more before deciding she wouldn't need stitches, and took his seat in the passenger's side. Bo kept herself sitting up as they drove back to the motel to collect their things, and to Dean's displeasure, cold burgers.

"You two ran off without me,' She reached into the chair and chucked Dean's phone at him, which he caught clumsily, 'And YOU left your phone. I WAS bringing back some lunch. So somebody owes me dinner." Both boys looked a bit sheepish at that, Sam let his shoulders sink a bit and Dean scratched at the back of his neck. Bo's stomach growled loudly as if to argue her point yet again and she let out a little whine to put the cherry on top.

"Fine. I could go for something filling too."

 

\-----

 

Something 'filling' turned out to be a burger joint, but at least it had been a sit-down joint. Full plate of seasoned curly fries, two big thick patties with cheese and bacon. Dean nearly drooled as soon as the plates came to the table. Dean and Sam sat across from Bo, all three drinking tall glasses of whatever was on draft tonight. Bo was having a bit more than she normally would have, the alcohol dulling the headache that cursed her brain at the moment. It was down to a bit of pressure now, but even that was becoming a distant memory.

"You better slow it down Bo. Eat some more before you down another one." Sam said, a bit of concern filling his features, though his own cheeks were getting a bit pink from his own drink. Dean was in a nice place now, most of his burger eaten and he was pacing himself with his fries. 

"At least my head doesn't hurt anymore." She quipped, though her speech was quite a bit slower with the inebriation weighing her down. Other than that, Bo was a smart drunk. She was a bit slower to conversation, but it was mostly due to the fact that she had to process her thoughts before they came out of her mouth. That being said, the boys did have a few stories now and again when she did go a little overboard. Dean grumbled a bit before excusing himself to go to the restroom, the significant amount of alcohol finally filling his bladder. 

"I thought about that day... today." Bo said, staring into the sesame seeds on her burger bun as if they were tiny crystal balls. She unconsciously picked one off and placed it to the side of her fries. Sam sat across from her, his head tilting to the side as he registered what she was talking about. He remembered that day very well, a crazy cult and their leader... the day he had met Bo. He had always felt bad about that day, for leaving her alone in the car, no matter how many times she had forgiven him... He hadn't been too terribly invested in others, his brother the primary concern in his mind at the time. 

"Yeah? Are you alright?" He asked, silence seeming to fill Bo's ears as she thought it over.

"We help people... Now and again, we always find ourselves in trouble, but for a reason. I'm just saying... Thank you. For saving me. And making sure I'm alright,' She said, a smile crossing her face as a milkshake was set on the table for her, she thanked the waitress and stared at the whipped cream. 'Sorry... I'm being weird." The red and white straw beckoned to her and she pulled a mouthful from it, a "Mmm" rumbling in her throat as the blended soft serve distracted her from her own words. The shake was a little thick, making the straw attempt to collapse on itself every time she tried to take a drink.

"You're a sentimental drunk, Bo. It's okay." Sam said, Dean bumping him over as he literally butted into their conversation.

"Don't you know you don't interrupt a lady enjoying her dessert?" Dean made bedroom eyes at Bo and her pouty straw-drinking lips, who nearly laughed out loud at how silly he looked. She swallowed her ice cream and gave Dean a smirk, shaking her head a little.

"Do you have to do that every time I order a shake?" She asked, knowing full well that his answer would be yes, just like every other time she had asked this question. Sam rolled his eyes and took a bite of his chicken sandwich, the grilled tender bits threatening to escape the bread. 

"I'm a dying man, Bo. Can't blame me for trying." Now it was Bo's turn to roll her eyes, chewing on her own fries and letting her shake settle a little. She had almost forgotten about that. Dean had sold his soul. Bo had cried at Sam's side, holding his cold dead hand for hours before he suddenly jumped up from the bed, healed of his injuries. The scream that had left her throat was permanently sealed within Sam's ears as well as Bobby's and her own. Immediately Bobby and her had known what he had done. He had been 'living it up' ever since. Luckily by now, Bo was adept at putting the eldest Winchester back in his place, he had grabbed her ass once too many during an undercover job and she had instinctively popped him in the mouth. Now, it was mostly playful banter and empty flirtations, which was fine with her. There were too many monsters in the world and one too many demon contracts to deal with right now, and there was no time for THAT kind of drama.

Bo suddenly looked terribly sad, making both Sam and Dean react. Sam elbowed his brother for upsetting her, and Dean's mouth gaped like a fish as he began to apologize. "Bo... I didn't m--"

"I'm too full to finish my milkshake..." She said, her sad doe eyes gazing sadly at the near-pristine vanilla milkshake that she had barely even touched. Both of the boys paused a moment before everybody at the table started laughing, the rest of the dinner lasting only another ten minutes to let their food settle so they could go back to the motel to sleep off their drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to continue this story, so I will be writing often.
> 
> This will grow and I will add tags as things happen.
> 
> -J


End file.
